


A Story Interrupted

by TheShaperate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cheeky Lavellan, F/M, One Night Stand, Smut, Sort of an AU, but also canon, everyone has secrets, going to add tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShaperate/pseuds/TheShaperate
Summary: Ilaan Lavellan meets a stranger at a bar on her way to the Conclave, and this chance encouter changes everything.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Kudos: 21





	1. Suspect

Ilaan dressed herself slowly, trying to move with the rocking of the ship. 

As she pulled on her breeches and stood, she looked over at the man still deeply asleep on the bed. 

Symmetrical features, curly, chestnut hair and a toned chest peeking out from under the blanket. Definitely handsome for a shem, Ilaan decided. Too bad she didn’t remember his name. Had she even asked? 

She slipped out of the room quietly, preferring to avoid the awkward morning-after conversations. Stepping into the bathroom on the lower deck, she checked herself in the mirror to make sure that her tattoos were still covered after the night’s activities. She watched herself as she braided her hair, noting how her hazel, cat-like eyes stood out against her still-bare face. She paused, adjusting the flower she always wore around her neck abscent-mindedly, the melancholy a sharp edge across her heart. Once she was satisfied that she once again looked presentable, she left the bathroom and headed to the upper deck. 

The cold, salty air hit her face as she opened the door, and it was the smell of freedom itself. As she had suspected, they were less than an hour from shore and she could see Jader from where she stood. She allowed herself a few more moments to enjoy the sun and salt spray on her skin.

The one and only time Deshanna had travelled with her aboard a ship, she had spent the entire time throwing up overboard and later declaring that a ship was no place for a Dalish. Ilaan supposed it was a good thing that she wasn’t entirely Dalish then. She thought of the first time she’d been on a ship as a young girl sailing from Antiva. The first time she had looked at the sea and felt as if she’d taken her very first real breath.

She cut the memory short and decided she’d better pack her things and prepare Vheraan for travel. She went through the plan once more in her head as she took the stairs three at a time. It should not be more than a 3 days journey from Jader to the temple. Once there she would simply blend in with the servants at the Conclave and stay until a resolution was reached. Clean and simple. Unless of course the templars and mages decided to continue waging their war during the peace talks, in which case Ilaan would make herself scarce. 

After stuffing all her possessions in her pack and strapping a pair of daggers to her back, she descended another floor to the lowest deck of the ship, where the livestock was kept. 

When she found Vheraan he nayed accusingly at her as she approached. She may enjoy ships just fine, but he certainly did not. 

“Such is the life of a spy’s steed _lethallan_ ” she told him with mock comfort. Vheraan responded with an annoyed huff in her face. 

“Come now grouchy old man, time to get going” she said petting his neck and gently tugging at his lead. 

Several carrots and apologies later the both of them were on the road- the closest thing to home that either of them could get.

—————

Ilaan argued with herself as she slowed Vheraan’s pace and gazed at the inn. She’d ridden for 2 days straight, only stopping to eat and sleep,surely that made her deserving of a break? The temple was less than a day’s ride away now, and knowing humans as she did, the pleasantries alone would last for at least a week before any real negotiations began. She was certain there was time for one night in a warm bed and perhaps an ale or two. Or three. 

On the other hand, she reasoned as she dismounted her horse, Dishanna would definitely not approve. She’d told her First that this gathering was crucial to the future of Thedas- unlike anything they’d witnessed, and it was vital that Ilaan gather as much information as she could. 

_Do not get sidetracked_ , she could almost hear her keeper’s voice in her head. 

Then again, Ilaan came to her own defence, when had she ever failed to obtain the information she sought? She was not a child after all, she could have her fun in moderation. Probably. 

“What r’you havin?” a gruff, unpleasant voice interrupted her inner struggle. Somehow her feet had carried her to the bar and sat her down before she had the chance to talk herself out of it. How thoughtful of them. 

“A pint of your cheapest ale then” she told the barkeep, who was suspiciously trying to glance under her hood. She tightened it around her head, and he turned around to fetch her a drink. No doubt her makeup had been washed away with the sweat of travel and an elf outside of the city, let alone a tattooed one, was bound to raise some eyebrows. She kicked herself for forgetting to put on her powder before entering the tavern - what a rookie mistake. 

“Um, pardon me missere?” She addressed the barkeep. “Where is the loo?”

“Eh?” he shouted back at her. 

“The loo” she repeated a bit more loudly. 

“The shitter’s out back” he spat back at her. 

She heard someone choke on their drink as they tried not to laugh. She glanced over and saw a man wiping spilled ale from the corners of his mouth. She smiled to herself under her hood, noting the point of his ears. Another elf outside a city? Interesting. 

Slipping out of her chair she quickly made her way outback behind the bar. Upon opening the door and inhaling, she could certainly see how barkeep’s terminology was appropriate. She doubted that he had cleaned this place since he opened. She tried to hold her breath as she took the small jar of powder from her pocket and applied it to her cheekbones to hide the delicate branches there. 

When she glanced at herself in the mirror afterwards, she was the perfect image of a flat-eared rabbit. She and Deshanna had been wise in choosing the shape and colour of her vallaslin – a little make up, and no one was none the wiser. 

Feeling slightly more relaxed behind her disguise, she left the bathroom, not bothering to put her hood back up. When she returned to her seat there was a pint of ale sitting in front of her that smelled only slightly better than the bathroom she’d just left.

She took a sip and looked around. Everything about this inn screamed forgotten. Though it was not far from the Imperial Highway, the only people who stayed here were clearly either desperate or wished to remain unnoticed. Usually Ilaan was both. 

“Another rabbit” the barman mumbled to himself, though she was certain he intended for her to hear. “I swear by the Maker there’s more and more of you each day”. A fact he didn’t sound even slightly pleased about. 

“Well, you know what they say about rabbits” Ilaan winked back at him, unphased. 

“What r’youse doing outside the alienage anyway?” he asked. “Thought they had your kind locked up in there”.

“Enjoying the fresh grass” Ilaan said, still smiling at him.

The elven man on the other side of the bar chortled once more. 

“Argh, you can go enjoy the bloody leaves fer all I care!” The barman barked back, looking slightly flustered. “Just don’t forget to pay for yer drink”. He walked away to the other side of the bar to serve the man that had just walked in. 

As soon as her eyes fell upon the newcomer, Ilaan groaned internally. She could practically _smell_ the stupid on him.

The shem leered at her as he ordered his drink and no sooner had the barkeep turned around that he began approaching her. 

“Hey little knife ear, you’re a long way from home aren't cha” he said. “Maybe I should give you a _ride_ back to town?” he goaded her as he approached. 

Ilaan rolled her eyes feeling slightly nauseous, but didn’t respond, choosing to down what was left of her drink instead. She saw the elven man across the bar stiffen, mostly likely in fear, as the shem approached her. 

“Ey, I’m talking to you, you knife eared bitch” the man spat behind her.

She sat stock still, watching him from her periphery. He began to lift his arm to grab her shoulder, but before he got it a quarter of the way there she was already out of her seat. In another half a second she was behind him. She hit him squarely on the side of the neck and he dropped like the sack of shit that he was. Before the barkeep had time to turn around she was back in her seat once more.

“What do ya think yer doin?!” the barkeep yelled once he saw his downed customer. 

Ilaan shrugged. “He seems to have fainted” she told the barman, her large, hazel eyes the picture of innocence. In truth she would have gladly killed the scum, but she couldn’t risk causing a scene so close to the temple. 

“Oh, to hell he did!” the barman gestured angrily. “He hadn’t paid for his bloody drink yet!”

Ilaan sighed and bent down to grab his coin purse. 

“Here’s his payment, tip included.” She tossed the purse to the angry barkeep. “Oh, and I’ll take his drink, as he seems to have had enough for tonight”.

The barman looked like he wanted to say something, but money was money. He grabbed the coin purse with a grunt and slid the ale towards her. 

Ilaan relaxed back in her seat, glad to have at least gotten a free drink out of the debacle. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the elven stranger rise from his chair and begin to walk in her direction. Out the frying pan and into the fire, she thought.

She allowed herself a sigh.

She watched his movements carefully as he approached - far too confident to be an alienage elf and yet too understated for someone looking to get laid. The grace of his movement made it clear that he was not untrained either. In Ilaan’s experience there were only two types of elves to be seen outside of clans and alienages - spies and assassins. 

“Looking to join my friend here?” She asked once he neared her, gesturing at the unconscious shemlen on the floor. 

Despite the confidence in her tone, she’d had enough conflict for the night, and she was sure the barkeep would kick her out if she beat up another customer. 

“I had no intentions of offending you” the elf replied good naturedly, also glancing at the downed man. “The consequences of such an affront appear severe”. 

“Oh, I don’t know” she said in mock consideration. “I think he looks much better this way”

The elf smiled. “You need not fear any impropriety from me this evening” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as if to prove his point. 

“A little impropriety would be acceptable” she told him, smiling flirtatiously.

“I shall bear that in mind” he answered softly and sat in the chair next to hers.

Now that he was so close, she took another moment to study him. She couldn’t place his accent which was yet another red flag. She glanced at his hands, her eyes playing coy with him. He had no callouses from a bow or daggers, though that did not mean he didn’t specialize in poison. Ilaan decided not to order another drink. 

“So, first time in this establishment?” she asked him casually.

“Why do you ask?” he dodged. Evasiveness - another bad sign Ilaan noted, growing warier. 

“Well, you don’t seem the type to hang around seedy taverns, that’s all” she responded, hoping it sounded like a compliment. 

The stranger laughed. “Implying that you are?”

She smiled. “I take my respite where I can find it”.

“As do I” he responded quietly. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and for a second his gaze seemed wanton - hungry.

Ilaan wasn’t certain if she felt frustrated or amused by this little game. He hadn’t answered a single question so far, and yet _he_ was the one who approached _her_. 

“Would you presume to know my character from the few words we have exchanged?” He continued, his eyes and tone turning back to mildly curious. 

“Hmmm” Ilaan said, eyeing his face. “You sound too intelligible to blend in with the usual sort around here. Then again, you did think it wise who approach a woman after watching her down a man, so perhaps not as sharp as I initially presumed”.

“Presumptions rarely lead us to truth, _da’len_ ” he said, and the smile on his lips was more warning than invitation. 

“ _Da’len_ is it?” she asked, smiling broadly. She was enjoying herself just a little too much. “Should I be calling you _ha’hren_?” 

“If it pleases you” he answered simply. 

“It might” she smiled suggestively at him and he glared back at her - with anger or desire, she couldn’t tell. 

“So enlighten me then _ha’hren_ , why _did_ you move over here? Did the chair look that much more comfortable?” 

“I can’t say that it did, _da’len_. Though it does boast a much more pleasing view” he responded to her without missing a beat. 

_Smooth talker_ , Ilaan thought to herself, suddenly hoping that he was in fact seducing her into a bed and not a grave - though she found it unlikely. 

“In answer to your question,” he continued after a short pause. “I merely wished to congratulate you on a swift victory. The grace and speed with which you moved were most impressive. It made for quite the spectacle.”His eyes bore into hers as he spoke. “You are certainly not without skill”.

Ilaan almost stiffened at his comment before she forced herself to look relaxed. Was this his not-so-subtle way of implying that he was onto her? Was he so cocky as to announce his intentions so plainly? The odds of this being a garden variety seduction were decreasing quickly.

“The _grace_ , messere? Are you suggesting that I am graceful?” She asked him, turning her voice sugar sweet. 

"No, I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.” 

Genuinely pleased, Ilaan smiled back at him, biting her lip. _If only you weren’t a hit man_ , she thought to herself as his eyes dipped a glance at her lips.

“May I enquire as to your own intention for visiting this ‘seedy establishment’, as you so called it?” he asked her.

“You certainly could, though I doubt it would be fruitful” she told him, innocently. 

“I see”. He said, his eyes meeting hers, his gaze steady. 

“Ey rabbit!” the barman’s voice interjected into their exchange. “Hope you weren’t lookin for a room, cause yer friend there took the last one”. 

Ilaan groaned. It was almost midnight and the bastard waited until now to tell her she would have to pitch a tent after two pints of ale. Though, she supposed she wouldn’t get any sleep no matter where she was, not with a potential killer on her tail. 

She felt a temptation to congratulate this elvhen starger, he was the first assassin who had actually managed to find her in all these years. Perhaps this Conclave was as vital as Deshanna had thought. 

“Well, that clears that up” she said, turning back to the elf, who now looked concerned. 

“Do you have any other arrangements?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes.” She told him. “I actually had a place reserved in Val Roeux, but decided I liked the look of this one better”. Her voice dripped with sarcasm and he gave her a reprimanding look. 

“I...have a room here” he said hesitantly. 

“So I’ve heard” she said, equal parts excited and wary. He was being so obvious - surely they wouldn’t send such a greenhorn after her? On the other hand, she simply couldn’t reconcile his downplayed demeanor with such an obvious attempt at seduction. This night could only go one of two ways, and Ilaan had already placed her bets. 

“There are two beds, if you would rather avoid the cold ground for the night” he finally finished. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. 

“You’re inviting me to your rooms already _ha’hren_?” She asked, her sweet smile back in place. She decided she would play his game, and that he would regret ever dealing her in. 

If he was trying to get her alone to dispense with her, she could not afford to walk away and be followed. She would have to deal with this swiftly. 

“For a good night’s sleep _da’len_. Nothing more.” He responded, his voice and expression chiding.

Ilaan let her eyes roam his face once more, considering his proposal. He was quite handsome in his own right. Sharp jaw, piercing eyes, and an arrogant tilt to his chin, which had always been her undoing. She almost wished that this seduction of theirs were real. 

Her keeper would call her a prideful fool for even entertaining the notion of being alone with a man who was obviously trying to kill her. And though Ilaan was confident in her ability to defend herself, Pride was not the sin that was tempting her into this stranger’s room. 

“I know a lie when I hear it _ha’hren_ ” she said, her tone brimming with seduction. Though the suggestiveness had nothing to do with sex - she was giving him one last chance to back down from whatever contract he’d accepted on her. 

“Oh?” He asked her. His expression was mockingly curious, but in his eyes Ilaan could see a darkness shifting. “I’ll be sure to watch myself then”. His tone turned dark - he was challenging her bluff. 

Very well then, Ilaan had given him her warning, if he was set to die by her hand then so be it. 

“I find myself unable to refuse such a generous offer” she said after a moment and smoothly slid out of her chair to stand before him. “Lead the way” she told him, her eyes giving him all the heat that she could muster. 

He simply nodded and stood to head up the stairs. 

She followed him slowly, her hips swaying and her hands itching for her daggers.


	2. Pride vs. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilaan kills Solas and all is well in Thedas.
> 
> Jk, read on.

He had been silent the entire way up - nervous for his first job perhaps. Ilaan continued to watch him closely as they ascended, she knew that the tiniest movement could mean death and she was determined to turn the tables first. 

Finally he opened the door to his room and gestured her in. 

“After you” he said, the picture of gallantry. 

Ilaan traced a hand over his chest as she passed him to enter the room. 

It was still dark inside, the fire not yet lit, which suited her just fine. 

She heard him step into the room and close the door behind them. 

“I must apologize for-” he never got the chance to finish his apology. As soon as she heard the click of the door, Ilaan had him against a wall with one of her daggers pressed into his throat. 

“Now, I really don’t recommend moving _ha’hren_ ” she told him, her voice still sultry. “This dagger is laden with poison - one tiny scratch and you’ll be dead in minutes” she was whispering in his air. 

This close to him she could smell the earthy, masculine scent of his skin and it gave her a strange urge to lick his neck. On his breath, which was ragged and uneven, she could smell the ale. She wondered how much he had allowed himself to consume on the job. 

“A dangerous item to carry with you _da’len_ ” he told her, his tone surprisingly even. “What if you were to scratch yourself accidentally?” 

She chuckled in his ear. “I am not ammature” she assured him. “Unlike _some_ ” she added, finally looking pointedly into his eyes. 

“Ah.” He said, realization dawning in his eyes. “Now I see. You believe I wish to kill you”.

She eyed him slowly, unsure of what kind of game he was attempting to play. If he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security, he would not succeed.

“I wonder,” he continued. “Does the threat of it frighten you, or does it only serve to stoke the flames of your avidity?”. His eyes were flashing at her in the dark, and she couldn’t deny enjoying the way _avidity_ had rolled off his strange tongue. 

“I’m not the one currently playing with fire _ha’hren_ ” she pointed out silkily, hoping to remind him of his current predicament. 

He chuckled darkly against her knife. “Perhaps you are right,” he admitted. “But what reason would I have for cold blooded murder?” He asked her. 

“Money? Power? The thrill of it?” She presented her guesses. 

“You certainly have a dark view of the world, _da’len_ ” he told her, and she could swear there was a hint of sadness to his tone. 

“And _you_ have clearly never travelled it as a woman if you think so” she said bitterly. 

And that’s when she saw it - the obvious flash of guilt and hurt across his face.

She exhaled, considering. 

Few men, let alone assassins, would show any reaction to the plight of women in Thedas, especially not while plotting to murder one. He could have faked it of course, but she was certain it was too quick to be voluntary. After a moment she slowly lowered the dagger, her muscles ready to bring it back up at a moment’s notice. 

“I apologize if our exchange at the bar had left you frightened,” he said, sounding remorseful. “Perhaps I was a little too forward with my intentions. It has….been a long time”.

She frowned at the vulnerability in that statement. 

“No, it’s not your fault.” She said, still uncertain of whether that was true. “Do you mind lighting a fire in here? That would make everything a lot less creepy”

“Of course” he said with a nod and headed towards the small fireplace in the center of the room. But instead of picking up the matches like she’d expected, he simply pointed his fingers at it and a flame burst forth, instantly catching the logs on fire. He looked at her calmly, as if nothing of note just occurred. “I would have done so sooner, had I not been...interrupted.”

“You’re an apostate” she said with some awe. It certainly explained some of his strangeness. She pulled her own aura tightly against her skin, so that he wouldn’t feel it should they...get any closer. “We’ll that’s a relief” she added. No guild hired mages- far too much opportunity for chaos.

The elf barked out a laugh. “Technically all mages are now apostates, though yours is still an unexpected reaction” he said. 

She shrugged at him. “A mage would have already murdered me if he so wished”.

“Maybe I simply did not wish the exposure” he suggested. His hands were clasped behind his back and he was watching her imperiously from his superior height. 

“Either way, not much I can do against magic” she said, untruthfully. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Why do I doubt that _da’len_?” He asked rhetorically. “Regardless, it is not a matter of concern, as I have no interest in killing you.” 

“So I’m realizing” she said softly to him. The tension between them was growing electric once more, now that she knew it could actually be real. 

Feeling slightly more at ease, she took stock of her surroundings. There were indeed two beds in the room, just like he’d said (though she had no intentions of taking the empty one). In the corner was a desk, piled with books. She walked over to it instinctually, hoping to glean some more information about him. 

He did not stop her as she started thumbing through his tomes. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all, preferring to watch her as an eagle would a scuttling mouse.

She frowned to herself, the volumes before her were highly esoteric- not to mention valuable. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him having enough coin to afford these. She would be tempted to assume he hadn’t even read them if it weren’t for all the notes, bookmarks and marked pages. 

“Tell me, what kind of person routinely reads _‘A dissertation on the Fade as a physical Manifestation_ ’?” she asked him, knowing she would not receive an answer.

“What kind of woman routinely paints her daggers with poison and expects to be murdered in every inn?” He retorted smugly. 

“A wise one” she grinned back at him. There was no doubt that he suspected the nature of her profession, but as she was beginning to realiza - he didn’t care. In fact, perhaps the danger of her is what drew him in in the first place, the knowledge that she could kill him if she needed to. Dangerous men often desired to feel equally matched. 

She broke their stare to continue looking around. Aside from the books on obscure magics and a little journal of dwarven poetry, she could see no other personal items in the room, which spoke volumes of his character. Even if he was not an assassin, he was no average Thedosian either. 

Once she finished surveying the territory she shifted her attention back to the elvhen man still standing in the centre of the room and watching her with vague interest.

Something in his demeanour didn’t add up. He wasn’t drunk exactly, but definitely inebriated beyond what was likely usual for him. He didn't strike Ilaan as a person who enjoyed losing control very often. Neither did he strike her as someone who would brazenly invite a woman to his room after a few flirtatious words. No, clearly something had happened to make him seek out the comfort of a stranger. Considering he’d chosen her, perhaps even something he wanted to punish himself for.

They gazed at each other heatedly, each waiting for the other to pounce. 

“So,” she started slowly. “I’m curious, what would make an elvhen apostate desperate enough to risk exposing himself to the templars for a chance to bed a stranger?” 

“Ah, and the temptress turns her hawke-like gaze to me. Penetrating deep into my most secret desires” he teased her, a smirk playing across his lips. 

“You know, if you’re actively trying not to frighten the ladies, you might want to actually answer a question or two” she scowled back, feeling slightly annoyed. 

“I apologise, It was not my intention to be rude” he said, finally serious. “But my reasons are my own.” And then added, “I am certain you share the sentiment”.

She couldn’t exactly argue with his point. “Very well then,” Ilaan agreed after some thought, still certain she could have him dead in minutes if he chose to provoke her. “I will allow you to keep your secrets, and choose to trust that I will come to no harm by your hand” she reasoned as she drew closer to him.

“None that you wouldn’t ask for, _da’len_ ” he promised, his voice the sweetest of whispers.

She felt a sudden rush of heat at his implication, running from her lips and down to her toes. The room around her grew impossibly hot and it was as if she were inhaling fire itself. 

If elf was, in fact, waiting for a chance to kill her, his wording had certainly served as a worthy distraction. It had peaked her desire, rendering her vulnerable and unable to focus on anything else. 

Ilaan tried to steady her breathing, drinking in the sight of him before her, pleased to see that he was not left unaffected. His eyes were roaming and undressing her eagerly, muscles slightly twitching with the desire to strike. But he held himself as he was, tantalising her to be the one who approached first.

“Must I ask you _ha’hren_?” She urged, sounding more breathless than she’d like. 

“I should like to hear it” he confirmed, though it was apparent that he was fighting hard to keep his tone even. 

Pride and desire wrestled inside her, one not wishing to give him the satisfaction and the other desperate for a culmination of this dance between them. The winner tended to always be the same. 

“ _Isalan pala na_ ” she finally breathed, unable to wait any longer. 

Something impossibly hard crashed into her with the strength of a bronto, it’s force crushing her against a wall, winding her. For a second she started to panic, realising that he had taken his opportunity to strike at her after all, until she felt the heat of his mouth caressing the side of her neck and his hips pressing into her in rhythmic motions. 

“You must tell me if I hurt you” he growled into her ear, all the while grabbing at every inch of her with firm hands. He maneuvered to search her eyes again, and the shadows from the fire made his expression look exquisitely dangerous. 

“I am not a fragile doll _ha’hren_ ” she chastised him while biting back her moans. She would not feed his ego by coming apart before he even dispatched with her clothing. 

Egged on by her words, he ripped away her tunic and breast band, determined to destroy everything standing in his path to her skin, then dipped his head to eagerly bite at the exposed flesh as if hadn’t had a taste in decades. 

“ _Ahh_ ” he let out a heated exhale as his hands moved to close around her ass. He squeezed it forcefully and dragged her closer to him until she could feel his length throbbing against her. She betrayed herself with a longing moan and he ground into her more firmly in response. 

_It has been a long time indeed,_ she thought to herself, overwhelmed by his hunger and desperation. He did not give her a chance to move let alone undress him in return. He pushed against her with all his considerable strength, leaving her panting and pinned against the wall. 

“Last chance to reconsider, _da’len_ ” he warned. His voice was nothing short feral now, all pretence of the well-mannered apostate gone. 

She did not respond but wrapped her legs around his hips and sank her teeth painfully into his neck.

He snarled at the pain, his body visibly relinquishing the last of his reservations. He tore at the rest of her clothing until she was bared before him, pliant to his will. Time slowed and accelerated simultaneously as one of his hands moved to caress her throat and the other aligned himself to her opening, the heat radiating from his cock almost burning.

Her heart beat frantically, the danger and desire mixing into the headiest of cocktails as he released what seemed like an eternity of pent up desire upon her. Ilaan surrendered into his ferocity, letting her mind go blank as he destroyed and rebuilt her over and over again, until there was no more thought, no more troubles, no more regret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isalan pala na - I want you to fuck me 
> 
> I figured Solas might want to lose himself in one sin for the night and forget all his others. If he is assuming that he will get his orb back in a matter of days he might feel its his last chance after-all.


	3. Reckless

The light shone oppressively through Lavellan’s eyelids as she gathered the will to wake. 

Her sleep had been entirely dreamless, and brief. 

She and her apostate companion had ended up ravaging each other until the sun began to peak, and if not for mental and muscular exhaustion, probably would have continued well into the morning. 

She sighed and shifted slightly on the bed, feeling her body protesting with soreness. She stretched her limbs to assess the damage and winced. It had certainly been a while since a night’s trist left her feeling so achy. 

Slowly blinking her eyes open, she looked around. The elven man was still deep in the Fade beside her, looking the picture of peace. She observed his expressions for a while as they changed from a slight frown to the hint of a smile. He was as unguarded in his sleep as he was secretive when awake. 

Once she finally turned to glance at the window, her stomach dropped. The sun was high in the sky and it was clearly well past midday. 

“ _Fenedhis lasa_ ” She cursed and jolted up where she lay. 

This was exactly the kind of carelessness that she shouldn’t have allowed herself. If Dishanna were here - well, she didn’t even want to imagine the telling off she would receive.

She staggered off the bed and about the room trying to locate her clothes, all the while admonishing herself for the reckless sleep-in. 

The culprit was likely the dreamless potion she drank right before bed, which, retrospectively, was perhaps not the best idea. She hadn't wanted to risk entering the Fade whilst asleep next to another mage, however. The consequences of the latter could have been far more severe than a late wake-up call. 

Finding her clothes proved to be a bit of a scavenger hunt, and most of them did not appear to survive her lover’s aggression. In desperation to cover herself, she quickly threw on the first tunic she stumbled upon. It smelled of embrium, elf root and musk.

Her panties, which she found under the table, were cleanly ripped in half. 

She sighed sadly as she looked at them, but supposed some sacrifices needed to be made for the sake of a good time. Still, she did need _something_ to wear. 

“I can mend those if you wish” came a husky voice from behind her. She turned to see that the elvhen mage had awakened while she was searching for her things. 

“I think you’d better” she agreed. “I’d rather not do a naked dash down to the stables to grab another pair”. 

He chuckled sleepily at this. “Very well, bring them here” he instructed her, stretching out on the bed and yawning contentedly. 

_Lazy bastard_ , Ilaan thought, smiling to herself.

She collected the rest of her mangled clothing and brought it over to the bed. As she sat next to him, his eyes finally focused on her. 

“Is that my tunic, _da’len_?” The elf asked incredulously. 

She smiled cheekily at him. “You destroyed all my clothes, so I thought it only fair I steal yours”. 

He huffed, sounding unconvinced, but moved to mend her garments. 

His hands worked some delicate runes into the fabric, and with a brief flash of light, they looked as good as new. 

“That’s...that’s amazing, thank you!” Ilaan said excitedly, genuinely impressed with his handiwork. 

“Seriously, this is great, these were actually one of my favorite pairs” she continued, admiring her newly-regenerated panties. “I’m grateful to have them back in working order” she said playfully and winked at him.

“Your gratitude is unnecessary, I am the one responsible for the damage after all” he answered, sounding far too grave for their jovial exchange. 

“In that case, you might also owe me a massage” she said, biting her lip while stretching out her sore arms.

At this he finally laughed and leaned back leisurely on his pillows, tucking his arms behind his head.

“Yes, the night has left its effects on me as well” the mage admitted, giving her a half-smile. 

He was sprawled in the bed like a king in his castle, rather than an apostate in a shanty inn. Ilaan could see his gaze quickly darkening with renewed lust as he took in the sight of her in nothing but his tunic.

She let him trace the lines of her body with his eyes, feeling her own desire flare in her belly, despite the aches in the rest of her. 

“Will I be getting my tunic back now _da’len_?” he asked her with a faux nonchalance and Ilaan gave him a mischievous smile. 

“I don’t know, I’ve grown rather attached to it” she goaded. “You might have to pry it off me”.

The elf gave her a stern look.

“Strip” he ordered curtly, not indulging her mischief, and the command in his voice excited her further. 

She stood to obey, slowly lifting his tunic to reveal her thighs. He smiled darkly upon seeing them and when Ilaan glanced down she realized they were covered with bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

She smiled back at him, and continued her tease. He inhaled sharply once the tunic lifted above her pubic bone.

Ilaan managed to get all the way to her belly before the voice of reason jolted her. 

“I can’t _ha’hren_ ” she told him suddenly, feeling as disappointed as he looked. She leaned to grab her smalls from the bed and reluctantly slid them on as he continued to watch.

“Have I truly left you so debilitated, _da’len_?” He asked suggestively and she laughed in response. 

“While no slight can be made against your stamina _messere_ , that is not the reason” she told him. “I have commitments for which I am already very late.”

The elf frowned and instantly dropped his flirtatious demeanor. 

“I was not aware you had prior engagements” He said, his cordial formality back in place, but his gaze never leaving her body. 

Once all the belts and buckles were in place Ilaan looked up at him expectantly. There was a slightly awkward pause. She never did know how to end these things. 

“I shall escort you to your horse” the apostate said decisively, finally rising from beneath the blankets.

This time, it was Ilaan’s turn to catch her breath. 

He had not removed much of his clothing the previous night, preferring to simply lower his breeches enough to liberate his cock. Clearly, however, he had dispensed with his shirt at some point in the night, for now she was staring at the large and toned expanse of his chest. 

She appreciated his physique shamelessly as he stood. His shoulders were broad and muscular and her eyes caught on the two tantalising lines of his abdomen which led further down into the breeches he was still wearing. As her eyes slid still further she could see the effect her little strip tease had had on him. She swallowed and looked back up to meet his eyes. 

His expression was far too smug for her liking, making Ilaan regret admiring him so unabashedly.

Still, she made no move to leave. 

Sensing her hesitation the elf took a tentative step closer to her, still shirtless. 

“Second thoughts, _da’len_?” He asked her smoothly, and she scowled internally at the undercurrent of cockiness in his tone. 

Though it was unwise, she allowed herself to inhale his scent once more.

As the fragrance of his skin entered her nostrils Ilaan let out an involuntary sigh - she could sink and drown in it without regret. 

“Maybe I can stay a _little_ longer” she finally said, partially hating herself for the weakness. 

The elven man chuckled, leaning in closer. “You would remain here a century if it were my will, _ma’haurasha_ ”

She could feel his warm breath against her lips, her whole nervous system humming with anticipation of the kiss. 

And then. 

The world shattered with blinding pain. She was suddenly inverted, her every nerve exposed to the agony. The room spun around her and she could hear her own scream from somewhere far away. Something pulled at her chest with an impossible force, threatening to tear out her very soul. She fought against it, holding tighter to all the parts of her. The strength of the pull felt overpowering, and Ilaan was certain it would shear her molecule by molecule. Still, she held. 

Reality itself was becoming overturned- she was simultaneously looking at herself from the Fade and seeing the Fade reflected back from within her in an endless, excruciating loop. She was trapped in this never ending cycle. Death would have been a mercy, but nonetheless, she held. 

After what felt like an eternity of torment, it seemed to ease. As her consciousness began returning to her, she found herself kneeling on the floor, panting. 

“ _Nona_ ” she whispered, deliriously. 

“Are you alright?!” A voice called out next to her. 

Ilaan could tell by the alarm in the apostate’s tone that she must have presented a terrifying sight, but as she opened her eyes to reassure him, she realised that the entire room looked eerily green. 

She allowed her eyes to try and locate the origin of the light, ignoring the man kneeling beside her, now checking her pulse. She traced its source to the window and stood to walk towards it, as if in a dream. Once she finally reached it and looked out, reality came back to her like a punch to the stomach. 

Dizzying, unsettling and as sharp as her pain- it’s existence was visceral as well as ethereal. She could taste the sting of it on her tongue and hear its scream in her ears. The Breach twisted in an infinite spiral, and though it drew the eye magnetically, she found that she couldn’t stare at it directly, for fear of being overpowered. 

As It sparked and ebbed, so did the pain in her chest, as if they were beating in tandem. 

“ _No_ ” she heard the elven man exhale behind her, as he too finally found the source of the disruption. 

“ _It was not supposed to happen this way_ ” he whispered under his breath, sounding utterly disbelieving. 

Ilaan frowned at the apostate. He’d spoken in elvhen, clearly not expecting her to understand. 

“Do you know something of this?” She asked, turning to him. Her eyes searched the man’s face, but he didn’t so much as acknowledge her, his attention captured entirely by the hole in the sky. He stared at it in utter disbelief, seemingly incapable of movement. 

Her chest cracked painfully again and she decided she could not remain. She needed to figure out what was going on before it killed her. 

Ilaan threw the elf one last glance, but he still looked petrified in place, so she ran out the door alone. 

When Lavellan burst into the stables, she saw Vheraan rearing and fighting against his binds in panic.

“ _Atisha, lethalin, atisha_ ” she cooed gently, approaching him from the side. She stroked his neck sympathetically, whispering calming words in elven until both of their hearts began to calm. 

“Come _felon_ , let's figure out what’s going on” she coaxed him kindly, and Vheraan stumped his approval, snorting in determination. 

_My brave boy_ , Ilaan thought affectionately as she mounted and urged him forward, hoping she wasn’t leading them both to their deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atisha - calm  
> ma’haurasha - my honey, a sexual endearment  
> Also, Vheraan translates to lion :)

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for all elven goes to FenxShiral 
> 
> This is one of my first fan fictions so comments and suggestions are welcome!


End file.
